daffodils

today the pear blossoms looked so odd against the cold dark sky
spring says it is her time but winter still holds with jealously,
not willing to let go of the hues of her shadows

the cedars and the spruces remain indifferent to the conflict
since they bear their green with pride in all seasons
to the edge of arrogance

meanwhile in this bitter cold
the daffodils smile as they do,
smile their best smiles when they populate

the resting places of worm eaten bodies and
bones usurped by young apple trees

petals

what have i done?
have i set something in motion
that was not yet to be?

have i thrown a stone into a silent
pool and changed the universe?
a universe like a child not yet ready to grow?

have i torn the rose petals of affection
and skewered them onto their own thorns?

cold

behold, i am become cold
i am become the cold that has been in my heart
the shards of ice that has pierced my flesh
is no more because i am become the floes of ice
that wanders the endless oceans

i am in love

what does that mean?

it means i see a vision that gods can't explain. it means my heart is suddenly in the shape of someone else. this other person, she has changed the way i see the world. she has changed the shape of my heart. i have found my form. she has found my destruction. in my way. in my heart, i am destroyed. i am doomed.

i am in love.

Morning

Morning comes with stillness.
Droplets of dew still remain on the vines,
Lazy moisture cling to the edges of burdened leaves
Heavy with the weight of heaven’s tears.

Redolent angels cry only in the human night.
Redolent angels fear to reveal heaven’s confict
To those who steadfastly believe in celestial rumors.
Eons pass without success,

Even angels give up telling the truth
And let rumors be accepted as reality.
Being God’s messengers doesn’t make enduring
A codependent parent any easier to bear.

beauty

there is a little something
of beauty in all of the little moments
that i have in my days

there is a little something
of beauty in smiling at a stranger
and having her return the look

it is in the shifting of the wind,
the whirl of a moving leaf

it is in the momentary hold
of someone else’s lips

it is in the look of wonderment
in the face of an innocent child

in a moment, i am reminded
of why i hang on in this miserable life

in a moment, i am reminded
of the jewels of the mundane

in a moment, i am reminded
of the beauty of your smile

blossoms

blossoms flutter in the spring wind

she refuses the breath of winter
she is angry of my affair
the way i caress ice
and the way ice melts in my touch

blossoms throws me petals
the way crèpe myrtle snows in spring
the way white flecks color my smile

but i am in love with winter
winter shapes her ice in my form
freezing me to the form

of a belonging that
she finds in me without my consent

flecks

i know the flecks in the sun of her eyes.

they are the dark spots from which
solar flares will erupt.

emotions that throw themselves,
coming from below the surface
of wistful intent painted vermillion.

i know the flecks in the sun of her soul.

they are the instructions for what
my will is subject to.

emotions that throw themselves
at a receiving hollow receptacle
filling human void with
something cosmically alien.

Middle Ground

what is the middle ground
when a heart draws

from the inside
what the eyes see?

an expression

not quite formed
in a stranger's eyes

that you suddenly
understand?

something once thought
beyond ability

glancing of words

last night, what started as a perfectly normal and balanced conversation became another "glancing of words." however, i must be learning because i processed through the event afterward and found that i was able to understand it and let it go because it was not really mine to own. little victories.

Beynac. 1997

It was a steep climb on the cobblestone street
To the precipitous seat of Chateau Beynac.
What were we thinking on such a warm day?
At the base, we laughed at a wooden sign
In front of a bakery that read “PAiN.”

Later, following the narrow winding streets
We turned a bend and were rewarded with
An unusual, amusing sight; against a low
Stone wall was an exuberant splash of color.
There hanging was a strange fruit;
A melon sized squash of blood orange hue.

I stooped beneath the dangling orb,
Looking at it against the powder blue sky.
It was a form of nature’s perfection
Against a clear robin’s egg heaven.

You smiled at me with a smile
An adult uses with a child when in wonderment.
I’m sure you thought the sparkle in my eyes
Was due to what my playful vision discovered.

Little did you know the perfection of the moment
Was actually your heartful’s reaction to my childishness.

Amboise, 1997

We stood on the old ramparts of ancient Amboise
Looking northeast upon the Loire.
Late morning's light hung like lazy haze
Shining on the endless tree lined shore.
It was a view from another life
Momentarily shared by our other lives.
You watched as I rummaged through the
Backpack for our lunch, smiling.
We ate a simple meal; bread, cheese and fruit.
A little communion coming to be,
A humble treasure of this universe.
But not as precious as the strands of gold
Absently disturbed by a rising breeze
And finding their resting place on your brow,
Crowning the wistful hazel and amber in your eyes.

vestiges

band with sapphire heart
now rests in old jewel box
old soul, new karma

--

in times, i wonder
the tale of her hazel eyes,
hollow of my heart

--

this face in my sleep
so thoughtful in her intent
holds to linger, still

nocturne

four twenty eight a.m.
silence and darkness.
outside, palm fronds fray
against grieving shutters.
through broken stained windows
venetian blinds hum and heave
melancholy meowing chords.
on the floor, bands
of pale gauzy light
elaborate bruised, empty fractures.
a passed over geography
of pitted terra cotta tiles.
wait. wait wantingly and the moment
will come when the waning
senses surrender to calm
and sweet slumber deftly
persuades the wrinkled mind to
uncoil the body into dreamless repose

buddhist nun ringing bell

buddhist nun ringing bell
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

she calls me after midnight to give me a pep talk. she tells me that i've never let her down, that i was a good husband and always a good provider. she tells me that it was never about me, it was about her and i had no control in it. the irony of it, almost five years after the fact. how am i supposed to respond? she tells me that her boyfriend has the utmost respect of me. how am i supposed to respond to that? is this some kind of weird closure? she tells me that it is up to me to get up and go, that i've not lost anything. if anything, it has just been dormant. what the hell?

it seems trite but it is appropriate:

"Up, down, turn around; please don't let me hit the ground
Tonight I think I'll walk alone; find my soul as I go home

Oh it's the last time, oh it's the last time

Each way I turn
I know I'll always try
To break the circle
That has been placed round me..."
--Moby

Inferno: Canto I

Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.

Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say
What was this forest savage, rough, and stern,
Which in the very thought renews the fear.

--Dante

places

why is it that you have such a hard time getting angry with the people you love?

why can't you simply say things like "you lied to me," "you really didn't mean that," etc...
we cant't accuse those we love so easily huh? well fuck me!

even after years and the facts are clear, you can't even find the strength to make the accusation. doesn't that just drive you penguins? well i think it turns me into an anchovy to be a quick snack for some tuna. i'm going to turn into fish fodder in monterey bay. it will be my way of being close with nature.

i can't even run. there is nowhere to go lest i opt for the artic or the serengeti. i think the jackals would like me better or perhaps the walruses. i belong in extremes. these middle grounds have nothing for me nor do they want me here. i am a danger to all.

rain

today the skies agreed with my mood. steely blue grey with streaks of rain. now only if i were in scotland.

taste

moments exist between the lines that we speak
tonight it is the place where i find myself

pointing out the obvious is fruitless
and placing blame brings no resolution

so i sit in the wind and wait for rain
wait for something to wash away this grime

knowing that family is not something
one gets out of, not cleanly at least

it is the plague of genealogy
the fascination of one looking for roots

our roots may be common but they bear
very different fruits indifferent to taste

so is my taste to change?
how does one tell one's heart to change in taste?

tonight tonight

tonight i am alone, not just alone but lonely. i feel far away from all that mean anything to me. my only comfort is the sound of music in a language that i don't fully understand. it is the language of my birthplace but my relationship with it is touch and go. it may be a sign that i need to go home.

the songs stir something inside of me but i can't quite put my finger on it. they leave me with a general impression of being misplaced. probably accurate.

in this state, i draw images. i draw and draw, not knowing where these images, these faces are from but i keep on drawing. drawing helps keep me from the things i should not be dwelling on. it is the only thing that works. there are strange faces and strange animals in this realm but they are helping to keep my mind on track. well, on track for what i can't say but it is better than losing my mind!

so the graphite goes to paper and forms appear, i wish life could be so simple...